Alias the Lone Wolf eBook

But talk they must, for the benefit of the servants,
and talk they did after an uneasy fashion, making
specious arrangements for Lanyard’s departure
on the morrow, when Eve was to drive him to Millau
to catch the afternoon rapide for Paris.

Nor was it much better after dinner in the drawing-room.
Consciousness of each other and consciousness of self,
as each fought to master the emotions inspired by
thoughts of their near parting, drove both into the
refuge of a dry, insincere, cool impersonality.
Lanyard communicated nothing of his plans, though
aware his failure to do so might be misconstrued,
instil an instinctive if possibly unconscious resentment
to render the situation still more difficult.
The truth was, he could barely trust himself to speak
lest mere words work on his guard like tiny streams
that sap the strength of the dike till it breaks and
looses the pent and devastating seas.

At half past nine, ending a long silence, Lanyard
sat forward in his chair, hesitated, and covered his
hesitation by lighting a cigarette.

“I must go now,” he said, puffing out
the match.

He was aware of her almost imperceptible start of
surprise.

“So soon?” she breathed.

“The moon rises not long after ten, and I want
to get away without being seen either by the servants
or by—­anybody who might happen to be passing.
You understand.”

She nodded. He lingered, frowning at his cigarette.

“With permission, I will write...”

“Please.”

“When I have anything to report.”

She turned her head full face to him, letting him
see her fluttering, indulgent smile.

“You must wait for that?”

“Perhaps,” he faltered—­“at
least, I hope—­it won’t be long.”

“You must wait for that?”

“Perhaps,” he faltered—­“at
least, I hope—­it won’t be long.”
“I shall be waiting,” she told him simply—­“watching
every post for word from you. I shan’t
worry, only for you.”

He got up slowly from his chair, and stood half choking
with unutterable words.

“I know no way to thank you,” he managed
to say at last.

“For what?”

“For everything—­kindness, charity,
sympathy—­”

“What are those things?” she demanded
with a nervous little laugh. “Words!
Just words that you and I use to hide behind, like
timid children...” She rose suddenly and
offered him her hand. “But I don’t
think it’s any use, my friend, I’m quite
sure that neither of us is deceived. No:
say nothing more; the time is not yet and—­we
both can wait. Only know I understand ...
Go now”—­her fingers tightened round
his—­“but don’t stay away any
longer than you must, don’t be influenced by
silly traditions, false and foolish standards when
you think of me. Go now”—­she
freed her hand and turned away—­“but
oh, come safely back to me, my dear!”